


you can hear it in the silence

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Season/Series 02, some mentions of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4037698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of her hurts at the image in front of her, but a bigger part of her wants to just wrap her arms around the man she loved and never let go. He’d spent every moment since the helicarrier trying to prove that nothing was different about him- he’d lost a hand, but he was still the Phil Coulson they knew and loved.</p>
<p>But things were different, and it was time to have a talk with him about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can hear it in the silence

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I have a theory that Phil is going to be worried about being on top with only one hand and I talked to Lilly about it and this story was born. Title from You R In Love by Taylor Swift.

She doesn’t even notice anything is wrong at first.

Her vacation had been nice, but she missed Phil in bed next to her, and morning tai chi with Skye, and being with the group of people she’d grown to call her family over the last two years. She’s finally closed the chapter of her life that contained Andrew, and she was ready to focus on her relationship with Phil.

The first thing she’d done upon returning was yank him up from his desk chair by the tie, kiss him until she could barely breathe, and finally tell him, after nearly thirty years, that she loved him, was in love with him, and had been in love with him for far longer than she’d ever admit. She’d expected him to fuck her right then and there on the desk; instead, he’d lead her to his room, locked the door, and then spent a solid hour with his head between her thighs.

She wasn’t complaining, at all; Phil knew what to do with his mouth and his tongue- he always had, and she wasn’t lacking for orgasms by any stretch of the imagination. But in the two weeks since she’d returned, he’d spent more time with his tongue inside her than his cock, save for when she’d pushed him down into his office chair and ridden him until they were panting and sticky and satiated.

Things were different- they had to adjust to him having only one hand, and she knew he was still sensitive about being able to do things on his own. He was stubborn in the sense that he didn’t want others to see it as a weakness, her in particular- though she couldn’t quite get him to understand that she loved him no matter what. Just because he’d lost a hand didn’t mean he was less of a man, and she hadn’t fallen in love with him because of his left hand.

Another week passed, though, and every night Phil went down on her, gave her at least two incredible orgasms, and then claimed he was too tired to do anything else and he was fine, falling asleep beside her with the fingers of his remaining hand entwined with hers. She was generally too blissful to protest, merely curling into his side and falling asleep to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. But every morning when she woke up, Phil was already awake and in the shower- any thoughts of early morning sex had disappeared, and she couldn’t help but miss it.

She missed the feeling of Phil on top of her; his comforting, heavy weight pressing her into the bed, the easy way he could maneuver her legs to hit just the spot inside her that made her toes curl and his name leave her throat in the form of a moan- she missed the feeling of trusting him completely as he fucked her straight into the mattress. She missed _sex_ with him- she loved having him between her thighs, and she loved being on top, but Phil was the only person she’d felt truly comfortable letting top her, and she missed it.

She’s lounging in bed, lingering as long as she can in the warm sheets that still smell like Phil before she has to get up to meet Skye for tai chi, when she hears his voice. It’s soft; the bathroom door isn’t entirely shut to allow the steam to escape, and she sits up with a frown on her face. When she hears her name, she pushes off the covers and swings her legs over the side of the bed, standing as she ran her palm over her face, brushing away the last vestiges of sleep.

“ _Melinda_ ,” she hears Phil’s voice say softly, the word strained, like it was tugged from his throat. Her frown deepens as she pulls the door open a little more, mouth opening to ask Phil if he needs her when the words die in her throat.

He’s got his back against the tile, hand wrapped around his cock as he thrust into his fist; his eyes are screwed shut and she can see his chest rising and falling in rapid pants through the steam of the room. Her name keeps escaping his lips as his fist tightened and released around his length; his handless arm was resting at his side, lying against the deep blue tile uselessly.

As she watches, he raises his left arm, as though to brush a thumb over his nipple- but the moment the stump of his hand touches his skin he recoils, the steady motion of his right end faltering as he swears, face tightening in irritation.

Part of her hurts at the image in front of her, but a bigger part of her wants to just wrap her arms around the man she loved and never let go. He’d spent every moment since the helicarrier trying to prove that nothing was different about him- he’d lost a hand, but he was still the Phil Coulson they knew and loved.

But things _were_ different, and it was time to have a talk with him about it.

* * *

She’s killing him. Literally, actually killing him. Like, going-to-send-him-into-cardiac-arrest killing him.

It’s eleven in the morning and they’re in the middle of a meeting and he can see the black lace of her bra whenever she bends over and he’s half-hard; if he scoots his chair any closer to the edge of the conference table he’s going to cut off his circulation. Bobbi doesn’t seem to notice; she just keeps plowing through her power point presentation on something he’s _sure_ is important for him to pay attention to, but all he can think about are Melinda’s breasts. Or preferably, Melinda’s breasts out of the black lace they were encased in and in the palms of his hands- or, hand, considering he didn’t have a left one anymore.

The phantom fingers of his left hand twitched at the thought, and he fought to hide the grimace he knows Melinda saw anyway. It had been weeks and he still felt the loss of the limb as brutally as the moment it had happened. He appreciated what Mack had done to save his life, but he’d had the thing for over fifty years. He’d been attached to it.

(The puns didn’t help, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop any time soon.)

“Director?” he looks up at Bobbi’s voice, mildly embarrassed upon realizing he has no idea what’s going on.

“Thank you, Agent Morse,” is all he says in reply, clearing his throat and sitting up slightly. “I’ll review this later with Agent May and get back to you.”

Bobbi smiles at him and Melinda hides an eye roll behind a toss of her hair over her shoulders as the blonde woman leaves, shutting the door behind her.

“You wore the black one on purpose, didn’t you?” is all he asks as soon as they hear the click- her lips curl into a smirk as she leans forward, cleavage deepening and eliciting a low groan from him. “It’s not even noon Melinda.”

“Never stopped you before,” she replies, eyebrow rising slightly in suggestion as she undid the top button of her shirt, more of her smooth, tanned skin coming into view. Phil’s saved from answering by a knock on the door and Skye pokes her head in, smiling at them as Melinda adjusts the shirt.

“You promised you’d take me shopping,” she says, and Melinda sighs softly but it’s affectionate as she stands, nodding. “Nat said she’d meet us at the mall and she’d bring Wanda so I can try to talk her into buying something that isn’t red for once.”

“Like that’s gonna happen,” Melinda replies, tucking her hair behind her ears before leaning down, cupping Phil’s chin in her hand as she kisses him softly, nose nudging his affectionately as she smiles down at him, eyes  warm. “We’ll be back after dinner. Try not to stay in here all day.”

“Okay,” he answers, right hand slipping up to grasp her hip lightly, thumb brushing along the skin above the waist of her jeans. “Tell Natasha I said hello.”

“Tell her yourself,” Melinda said with a snort, straightening and smoothing her shirt. “Also don’t forget to call Tony back he’s texted me eight times in the last four hours and I’m sick of playing messenger.”

Phil rolled his eyes, hand coming up to tap her ass as he nudged her towards the door, enjoying the heat in her cheeks. “ _Go._ ”

“You guys are gross,” is Skye’s only response to their exchange as she ducks her head out, but her voice is affectionate as she calls out “Bye DC!” before Melinda shuts the door to his office.

He manages to distract himself well enough with paperwork and a phone call with Tony that involved more of Pepper telling Tony to be quiet than an actual conversation, but the smile manages to stay on his face through the afternoon. He grabs dinner from the kitchen (Bobbi had made spaghetti) before he spends the rest of the evening channel surfing on his bed; he’s watching a cooking show when Melinda walks into the room, collapsing onto the bed with a soft huff.

“IF that girl had half the energy during training that she does when shopping, she’d be better than me,” she says, turning to look at him, hands pillowed under her head.

“That gene must skip a generation,” he teases, thumb brushing over her cheekbone as she rolls her eyes at him. “You had fun though?”

She nods, eyes slipping shut and she sighed quietly, face the picture of contentedness. They lay there in the quiet for a moment, the hum of the air conditioning and the background noise of the television the only sound before she spoke quietly. “Want to talk about how you won’t fuck me anymore?”

He doesn’t even know how to react- her eyes don’t open and he almost thinks he imagines it until he hears “Because I’d certainly like to know why you can eat me out every night but have to get yourself off in the shower every morning.”

“Melinda…” he starts, but she cuts him off by sitting up; she opens her eyes as she brushes her hair off her face, expression unreadable.

“I’ve been home for nearly _six weeks_ , Phil, and the only time we’ve actually had sex was in your desk chair after I initiated it,” she says, and he winces, but she continues. “You know I have never had any complaints about our sex life, and I love when you go down on me but I miss having sex with you. Please just talk to me.”

“It was the one thing I didn’t want to change,” he whispers after a moment, and confusion settles over her features. “Everything else is different. How I get dressed. How I eat. How everyone looks at me. I wanted this- how I make you feel, how I get you off- I wanted that to be the one thing that didn’t change.”

“Phil,” is all Melinda can say, hands reaching for his, squeezing his fingers. “Of course things were going to change- everything always does. You adapt- that’s what life is about. That doesn’t mean the change is bad.”

“I don’t feel like I’ll ever adapt,” he admits in a whisper, voice thick. “I’m too old for this, Melinda. I can’t run SHIELD and be director and keep these kids in line and be the man you fell in love with one hand. I feel different.”

“You feel different because you are,” she whispers back, echoing the words she’d said so long ago as she tilted his chin upwards with two fingers until he looked at her. “You lost something that you can never replace. But you will never lose me, Phil. Never. I love you. You always have been and always will be the man I fell in love with- with two hands or not. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I’m terrified,” he chokes out, words sticking in his throat. “I’m terrified of hurting you, I’m terrified of everything being different, I’m terrified of it not being good for you-”

She cuts him off with a kiss, mouth slanting over his with just the barest taste of desperation; when they break apart they’re both slightly out of breath, faces flushed. “It could never be anything but good, Phil- I’m with you, and that’s all I’ll ever need. Trust me. Please?”

His eyes search hers for a moment before he nods, exhaling shakily as he leans forward until their foreheads are touching. “I’ll always trust you, Melinda.”

She tilts her head, nose brushing his cheek before she captures his mouth in hers; she distracts him with her tongue as her fingers go to the sling. She loosens it with a few movements of her fingers, and she breaks the kiss to tug it gently over his head and toss it away, leaning forward to kiss him again. She gets through the buttons of his shirt before he can catch his breath, palms smoothing down his chest as she sighed into his mouth.

The fingers of his right hand crept to the hem of her shirt after she’s pushed his down and off his arms, leaving him bare chested; he pushed the loose material up her torso, thumb catching on the underwire of the black lace bra. “Take off your shirt.”

She hummed, a shiver going down her spine as she pulled away slightly, tugging the purple fabric up and off; neither paid much attention to where it landed as Phil’s mouth moved down her neck and latched onto her collarbone, sucking a deep red mark she’d feel in the morning. She tugged him with her as she moved to recline against the pillows, pulling him atop her as they deepened the kiss; she shifted so her knee could lift above his hip. He thrust forward shallowly, drinking in the breathy moan she gave him as her head fell back, lips parted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, fingers reaching up to brush her hair back. “You’re so mine.”

“Always,” she replies back softly, hands framing his face before she leans up to kiss him. “I’ll always be yours.”

They kiss lazily for a while, until Melinda trails her hands down his torso and tugs at the hem of his pants, pressing against his growing erection. His hand slid around her waist as his lips touched the base of her neck; she sighed quietly, tilting her head back against the pillow as she arched against him. He nipped at the curve of her jaw lightly, hand squeezing her hips as her fingers slid under his waistband, nails scratching at his hipbones. He gave a low groan of appreciation and pressed his hips towards hers; she gasped his name, moaning.

“These need to get off. Now,” she commands quietly, tugging the button out of the hole and shoving the zipper down. She pulls both his trousers and his boxers off in one push and he rolls off of her to kick them over the side of the bed, leaving his naked as she undoes her jeans beside him.

He watched her shimmy out of the denim fabric and his breath catches at the black lace panties she has on that matches her bra; she’s a vision beside him, hair cascading over the cream sheets as she turns on her side to look at him. “I could look at you forever.”

Melinda’s lips curl into a smile and he can’t breathe; he loves this woman more than anything in the entire world, and he is never going to let her go. His world is this bed; the way her skin feels pressed against him as he settles on top of her, the contented sigh she gives as his mouth descends to her breasts, to the way she smells like jasmine lotion and lilac shampoo.

She reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, tossing it aside and wrapping her arms around his neck, rubbing up against him as her tongue met his.

“Want you,” she murmured, hands sliding down his back, digging into his skin as she pressed kisses to his shoulders. Groaning, he thrust against her sharply, the friction against her panties almost sending him over the edge.

“These. Off. Now.” he manages to gasp out; he holds himself above her, arm shaking, as she tugs off the lace and wraps her thigh around his hip. He sinks into her with a groan of her name, overwhelmed by how hot and wet she is around him. She sobs out a moan as she lifts her other leg over his hip, crossing her ankles just above his ass as he stills, relishing the feeling of being inside her.

“See?” she asks, panting softly as he begins to move slowly. “Nothing- nothing is different.”

He doesn’t speak; just concentrates on thrusting evenly, pushing deeper inside her with each movement. She wraps herself around him, keeping up a constant flow of encouragement as the heat between them began to grow into a full-on inferno.

“I love when you’re on top of me,” she informs him, mouth on his neck, lips encircling his earlobe and sucking gently. “I love having you inside me and over me and so deep inside me it feels like we’ll never be separate ever again.”

He moans at her words, pace faltering slightly before it picks up; he shifts the angle ever so slightly, so he’s hitting her clit on the down stroke. She cries out in surprise, tightening around him. “Right- right there. Phil- oh god _Phil_ please don’t stop.”

He increases the pace, slipping slightly at the sweat pouring off his skin; Melinda adjusted her grip, legs sliding on his back until he hit the spot inside her that made her see stars. She slips a hand between their bodies, fingers pressing against the slick bud of her clit; she makes it about four more thrusts before she falls apart, inner walls squeezing his cock as she climaxes, his name leaving her throat in a hoarse yell.

“Come on Phil,” she murmurs into the slick skin of his neck after she comes down, wrapped tightly around him. “Let go. I want to feel you let go.”

His thrusts falter as he shifts his weight forward when he orgasms, spilling inside her with a deep groan of her name. She wraps herself around him, his weight a heavy, welcoming pressure above her as her fingers stroke over his sweat-slicked back, waiting for him to catch his breath. She presses kisses to his shoulders, murmuring “I love you softly”; he catches her mouth in his after a moment and she sinks into his kiss.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick as he slips out of her and turns them on their sides, his arms around her. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

Melinda curls herself around him, tucking her head under his chin and breathing him in. She sighed, tired and content and slightly sore, but happier than she had been in weeks. “I love you too, Phil. I love you so much.”

She’ll regret the stickiness she can feel settling against her skin come morning, but his arms were warm wrapped around her, and she felt too safe in his embrace to be bothered to move to clean up. The soft waves of sleep washed over her and she sighed, limbs growing heavy as the rumble of soft snores echoed from Phil’s chest.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, in the arms of the man she loved, and for the first time in a long time, her dreams were content.


End file.
